thou see the return of the Lord to cleanse and redeem the Earth.
“These blessings and promises we, thy brethren pronounce upon thy head in the name of the Savior, even the Lord Jesus Christ, amen.”
“Amen,” the other two men repeated.
“Amen,” Jacob said.
The men helped him to his feet and shook his hand one by one. Their eyes were shining with purpose in the early morning light that crept into the courtyard. After he finished shaking, Brother Timothy gestured at the wooden chair and urged him to sit back down.
A woman brought a bowl of steaming water and a dipper, which she set at his feet.
“Thank you, dear.” Brother Timothy put his hand against the woman’s cheek. Jacob made eye contact and felt a shock of recognition.
Agent Haley Kite. Her soft features, dark, almost Mediterranean eyes, were unmistakable from the photos Agents Krantz and Fayer had shown him. He tried not to stare as she returned to the covered stone arcade.
She was alive, thank goodness. And married to the Prophet.
Oh, she’s good.
Krantz and Fayer had nailed that one. She’d burrowed so deep into the church Timothy had taken her for his wife. But why hadn’t she made contact?
Brother Timothy bent to his knees. He lifted Jacob’s foot with one hand and took a dipper of water in the other.
Jacob’s feet were numb from the cold stones, and he flinched at the hot water. But after the third dipperful and the way Brother Timothy methodically rubbed the dirt and stress from first one foot, then the other, he found the foot washing soothing. When Timothy finished, the other two men—the disciples, the prophet had called them—repeated the gesture.
The last to do so, a middle-aged man named Brother Clarence, looked up when he finished and said. “Thou art clean of the blood and sins of this generation.”
Jacob said, “What now?”
“Work, of course,” Brother Timothy said. His tone was relaxed now, less formal. “After breakfast I’ll take you to the north fields. There’s something in the irrigation works that’s bugging me.”
“Why me? I’m not a hydrologist.”
“I know, but you’re an educated man with a scientific background. I could use a fresh pair of eyes. After that, some stuff right up your alley.”
“Medical problems?”
He nodded. “Always. A bone that didn’t set properly, a few with age complaints, some pregnant women. We have a midwife, but you’re our first doctor.”
“Good. I mean, I hope there’s nothing serious, but it’s something for me to do.”
“That’s just the start. Before the coming of the Lord, we will find uses for all your talents, Brother Jacob.”
#
Jacob met his fellow cult members at breakfast. Okay, his fellow saints. His attitude softened once the others arrived at the largest interior courtyard for their communal meal.
It was hard to see them as the brainwashed masses when you looked at them as individuals. There were women, children, men, elderly and young together. It was the sort of mixed group you found in Zion, not the rigidly separated, atomized lives of the gentile world. Each and every one looked freshly washed, alert and happy to be setting about their daily work. Some greeted him by name.
“Brother Jacob, so good to see you.”
“Welcome to Zion, Brother Jacob.”
In fact, he recognized a few. There was Caralee Kimball, formerly one of Fernie’s sister wives, before their husband was sent to prison. And Jacob’s own second cousin, whose name escaped him at the moment. Jacob was surprised to see the boy had found his way back into the community. It had been ten years since his father kicked him out for rebellion.
Jacob scanned the crowd for Agent Kite. How was he going to make contact?
Could it be Krantz and Fayer were wrong, that she wasn’t in trouble at all? She’d simply decided not to check in, to stay deep underground. Whatever she was learning, it had to be good. And ongoing.
It made his job simple. Make contact, get out. Let the
“These blessings and promises we, thy brethren pronounce upon thy head in the name of the Savior, even the Lord Jesus Christ, amen.”
“Amen,” the other two men repeated.
“Amen,” Jacob said.
The men helped him to his feet and shook his hand one by one. Their eyes were shining with purpose in the early morning light that crept into the courtyard. After he finished shaking, Brother Timothy gestured at the wooden chair and urged him to sit back down.
A woman brought a bowl of steaming water and a dipper, which she set at his feet.
“Thank you, dear.” Brother Timothy put his hand against the woman’s cheek. Jacob made eye contact and felt a shock of recognition.
Agent Haley Kite. Her soft features, dark, almost Mediterranean eyes, were unmistakable from the photos Agents Krantz and Fayer had shown him. He tried not to stare as she returned to the covered stone arcade.
She was alive, thank goodness. And married to the Prophet.
Oh, she’s good.
Krantz and Fayer had nailed that one. She’d burrowed so deep into the church Timothy had taken her for his wife. But why hadn’t she made contact?
Brother Timothy bent to his knees. He lifted Jacob’s foot with one hand and took a dipper of water in the other.
Jacob’s feet were numb from the cold stones, and he flinched at the hot water. But after the third dipperful and the way Brother Timothy methodically rubbed the dirt and stress from first one foot, then the other, he found the foot washing soothing. When Timothy finished, the other two men—the disciples, the prophet had called them—repeated the gesture.
The last to do so, a middle-aged man named Brother Clarence, looked up when he finished and said. “Thou art clean of the blood and sins of this generation.”
Jacob said, “What now?”
“Work, of course,” Brother Timothy said. His tone was relaxed now, less formal. “After breakfast I’ll take you to the north fields. There’s something in the irrigation works that’s bugging me.”
“Why me? I’m not a hydrologist.”
“I know, but you’re an educated man with a scientific background. I could use a fresh pair of eyes. After that, some stuff right up your alley.”
“Medical problems?”
He nodded. “Always. A bone that didn’t set properly, a few with age complaints, some pregnant women. We have a midwife, but you’re our first doctor.”
“Good. I mean, I hope there’s nothing serious, but it’s something for me to do.”
“That’s just the start. Before the coming of the Lord, we will find uses for all your talents, Brother Jacob.”
#
Jacob met his fellow cult members at breakfast. Okay, his fellow saints. His attitude softened once the others arrived at the largest interior courtyard for their communal meal.
It was hard to see them as the brainwashed masses when you looked at them as individuals. There were women, children, men, elderly and young together. It was the sort of mixed group you found in Zion, not the rigidly separated, atomized lives of the gentile world. Each and every one looked freshly washed, alert and happy to be setting about their daily work. Some greeted him by name.
“Brother Jacob, so good to see you.”
“Welcome to Zion, Brother Jacob.”
In fact, he recognized a few. There was Caralee Kimball, formerly one of Fernie’s sister wives, before their husband was sent to prison. And Jacob’s own second cousin, whose name escaped him at the moment. Jacob was surprised to see the boy had found his way back into the community. It had been ten years since his father kicked him out for rebellion.
Jacob scanned the crowd for Agent Kite. How was he going to make contact?
Could it be Krantz and Fayer were wrong, that she wasn’t in trouble at all? She’d simply decided not to check in, to stay deep underground. Whatever she was learning, it had to be good. And ongoing.
It made his job simple. Make contact, get out. Let the
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